Page 36 of Trophy

Allison got home from work at about four o’clock and was worried because Rob’s truck was still in his driveway. As far as she could tell, it hadn’t moved in two days.

She was getting anxious. Normally he would have gone to breakfast, gone to work, gone to hang out and help friends with their projects in the evenings. But his truck never moved.

She really hoped he was all right.

She was sorely tempted to walk over and check in with him, to find out why he wasn’t leaving his house and whether he was sick or something. But that didn’t seem right. She was the one who had ended things between them, and it was too early to try to be friends.

So she went to work on a complicated choker necklace, trying desperately not to think or worry about him.

Since Monday she’d been replaying her conversation with Vicki in her mind and wondering if her friend was right. Maybe she’d blown the whole thing out of proportion because she was still so insecure about relationships since Arthur. Maybe she and Rob could have worked things out.

Maybe she’d actually made the biggest mistake of her life by giving up on someone so incredible.

Her thoughts were so tumultuous she didn’t feel like eating any dinner. She was still working on the intricate piece of jewelry when she heard a sound from outside that surprised her enough to make her look up.

She glanced out one of the dining room windows. It was raining, she realized. It had felt like rain all day, and finally it was coming down. Really hard, from the sound of it.

She stood up to look outside. It was dark out, but her back motion-detector light had come on, so she could see the sheets of rain coming down, occasionally blown sideways by the wind.

Staring outside, she watched it for a long time. She was filled with a strange satisfaction—like the intense, violent weather finally matched what was in her heart.

She was still standing at the window when her phone rang. Probably Vicki. She’d checked in on Allison every evening this week.

But when she glanced at the screen, Allison’s breath caught in her throat. It was Rob. She stared down at her vibrating phone, as if eventually the name would change into one more predictable.

It didn’t, so Allison picked up the call.

“Rob?” she said, unable to stop from sounding as trembly as she felt.

“Hi. Allison.” There was a strange pause between the two words.

Something felt wrong, even in the way he’d said them. “What’s the matter?” she asked, starting to shake for a different reason.

“Are you doing something… right now?”

Now she was even more nervous. He sounded so stilted. Not like himself at all. “No. No, I’m not. Rob, tell me what’s wrong.”

“Can you… can you help me?”

“Of course I’ll help you.” She took a shuddering breath, her head spinning with fear. Something must be seriously wrong. “What do you need?”

“Can you come over?” His voice was so hoarse and rough and thick. Barely recognizable. “I need… I really need your help.”

She didn’t even have to think about it. It didn’t matter what had happened between them. “I’ll be right there. I’m coming over right now.”

It was pouring down rain outside, but she was in such a hurry that she didn’t stop for a jacket or an umbrella or even a bra. She just slid on her flip-flops with her tank top and yoga pants and ran out of her house.

It was pouring so hard she couldn’t even see across the street. There was a blur of light over there, so Rob must have turned on his landscape lighting, which included a spotlight near the street. She splashed down her driveway, her clothes already soaked all the way through.

She was halfway across the street, sliding in her wet flip-flops, when she pulled to an abrupt stop.

Rob had come out to meet her, making his way down his driveway just like her. Now he was standing there, just on the edge of the road, visible in the light although blurred by the pounding rain.

He wasn’t wearing a shirt or shoes. He must not have shaved in a couple of days. He had what looked like sweatpants on—now soaked all the way through like her clothes.

They stood there in the rain and stared at each other for a few seconds that felt like a lot longer.

And she suddenly saw Rob—the real Rob—who had finally asked for her help. Wet and half naked and barefoot and as miserable as she’d ever seen him. He might be strong and competent and loved by everyone and unshakably solid .

But he wasn’t really that different from her. Right now. Always. Flawed and weak and sometimes scared and unable to get by entirely on his own. Dependent.

Human. Just like her.

She could see it so clearly as he stood in the rain, genuinely needing her to help him. The revelation rocked her.

Her clothes were so wet that she might as well have been naked too, and anything pretty or polished about her appearance was washed away by the cold streams of water rushing down her skin.

She was no longer Arthur’s perfect trophy wife.

And she wasn’t the friendly, hardworking waitress at Dora’s.

She wasn’t some pretty, stylish newcomer that Rob had managed to win, much to the town’s bemusement.

She wasn’t young and gorgeous and vulnerable and completely dependent—waiting to be carried off in a strong man’s arms.

She was just her. Allison. Wet and cold and scared and confused. And wanting desperately to be here to help him when he needed it.

And Rob was seeing her—actually seeing her. Who she really was beneath all of her surfaces. And he was reaching out his hand. “God, Allison,” he said hoarsely, his voice mingling with the sound of the rain. “I really need your help.”

She closed the space between them so she could take his hand in hers. “I’m here. What’s the matter?” She really had no idea what the emergency was, but she knew it must be bad.

“It’s Cali. She’s… Just come see.”

She walked up his driveway with him, clinging to his hand, and she knew she’d been right about something.

And wrong about everything else.

Rob saw who she was. He knew who she was. And he wanted her—needed her—anyway.